


Softly Breathing Out Your Name

by burntheroomdown



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Beauty and the Beast, Curses, Loss of Control, M/M, Romance, Very brief Claudia Stilinski, a bit of violence, bit of a gothic romance really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-29 01:18:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5111102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burntheroomdown/pseuds/burntheroomdown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Stiles' father goes missing in the forest, he and his brother Scott do not hesitate to follow him into the woods. Chased by a mad beast and trapped in a castle, Stiles meets the Hale siblings -Derek and Laura- and must come to terms with the fact there is no escape from the old castle.  As he begins to unravel the mystery of the Hale curse, Stiles begins to lose his heart to the dark and brooding Derek Hale.</p>
<p>A Beauty & the Beast AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Softly Breathing Out Your Name

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from Nobody, Not Even The Rain by La Dispute.  
> I have a weakness for fairy tale AUs. This is pretty loosely based on Beauty and the Beast. I guess it's more like an 'inspired by' AU really.

“Hush, my love. Do you hear them?”

The young boy tilted his head, ears straining to hear whatever his mother wanted to share with him. Breathing deeply, he slid his eyes shut against the pale moonlight and tried to clear his mind. He could hear the gentle hooting of an owl, the deep snorting of the pigs just below his window and the soft whinny of the horses in the stable, but there was nothing that he didn’t hear every-. His eyes flew open with a gasp. Paling, he turned to his mother, fear taking hold of him. “Wolves.”

She smiled warmly down at his scared face. “Yes. Wolves.” She let out a gentle laugh and pulled him closer as he began shaking. “Don’t be afraid, my little one. Hear how far they are. They mean us no harm tonight.” She ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. “You are right to fear the wolf, but you need to respect them as well.”

“But mama… Wolves are-“

“Hated for the very thing they were put on these lands to do. They hunt to feed themselves and their young ones, just as we do. Before this village was here, this was part of the forest they ran through. They may have even lived on this very spot. Have I ever told you the story about the Sacred Forest?”

The boy sat wide-eyed on his mothers lap, urging her on with his silence. “There is a reason it’s sacred. You see, long ago, deep in the heart of the Sacred Forest, there was a kingdom. A kind King and his gentle Queen ruled this Kingdom and all who knew them loved them. The King and Queen were blessed with a large family and a child of their own, a son who was just as kind and gentle as his parents. The Prince became a handsome, striking young man with the bravery and strength of ten men and the brain to know when strength wasn’t needed.

“One day, the Prince went out to wander among the people to see the traveling merchants. Unfortunately the Prince caught the eye of a witch. This witch was evil and hungry for the throne, greedy for power. She bewitched the Prince, forcing him to have no other thought than how much he loved her, how much he needed her.

“The Prince became sick with want. Refusing to eat, unable to sleep, he nearly lost his mind with desire for the witch. The Prince begged his parents for permission to marry her. Alarmed by their sons’ desperation, they consented reluctantly and the witch was brought to the castle as preparations for the wedding began. The Prince doted on the witch, professing his love with songs and gifts, anyway he could think of. But the witch was cold and indifferent towards him unless they were before the King and Queen, then she was as in love and besotted as her husband to be.

“The witch thought nothing could get in her way, her disguise perfect, only a single servant, the Prince’s best friend, was suspicious of the witch’s behavior. Knowing his friends happiness was found in this woman, he tried to push aside his misgivings and befriend the woman who had his Lords heart so completely. The witch treated him coldly and dismissed all of his attempts with a sneer. But the servant was unwilling to give up.

“The night before the wedding was to take place, the servant approached the witches chambers with a gift, planning to try and win the cold woman over once more. After all the gathered family had lain down, he knocked lightly on the witch’s door, waiting until he thought he heard her voice and entered quietly. The servant froze at the sight before him, barely able to contain a cry of surprise.

“The witch stood with her back to the door over the body of a servant girl, blood covering the floor. The witch began speaking of her plans to kill the King and Queen after the wedding and, laughing, she praised her cleverness and the spell she’d cast on the simple Prince. The poor servant was rooted to the spot until a deep masculine voice gurgled from the gaping wound in the dead girls throat. The terror that the voice forced through him made him flee.

“The servant ran to the King and Queens room and pulled them from their bed, frantically telling them all that he had seen and heard. The King roused the guard with the loyal servant, storming the witch’s room in time to find her trying to dispose of the servant girls body. The witch was captured and immediately taken to the dungeons. The Queen rode out into the forest and begged a powerful warlock to help free her son. He agreed at once and followed her back to the castle where they found the Prince in a rage, trying to break free from his family to release the witch from her cell. He had to be bound to his bed so the warlock could reverse the spell that had the Prince so gripped. The warlock found the spell easy to break, for though the witch was evil, she was not as clever as she believed herself to be and the spell was simple.

“Once the Prince came back to himself, he stopped fighting his bonds and fell into a deep sleep. He awoke deeply ashamed but thankful and the King and Queen decided that instead of a wedding, they would open the castles great doors and have a magnificent feast in celebration of having their son back.

“The feast lasted well into the night and just as it seemed to grow even louder, the great doors slammed open to reveal the evil witch standing there ablaze. She hissed the screams to silence and raised her hand towards the Prince, a hate never seen before in her eyes. The Prince was surrounded in a bright light, those nearest to him turning to ash instantly. Laughing cruelly the witch turned every human within the kingdom to stone, except for the servant who had exposed her and the Prince. The servant was killed in a flash of fire and as for the Prince; she had much worse in mind. She reached deep into the black pit that was her heart and pulled out a terrible curse. She turned him into a vicious, mindless and hideous beast, forced to spend eternity eating any who dared to draw near the castle. Cackling madly, she vanished in a flash of fire as the Prince began his painful transformation.

“But the poor servant she struck down with her flames was not yet dead. He lived on in the embers still glowing on the castle floor. The Prince’s anguished breath on the floor was enough to make them burn brightly and the soul of the servant flared enough to call for help. His call drew the Warlock who had saved the Prince before to their side. The Warlock fed the dying embers and as he tried to help ease the suffering of the royal, he listened to the servants tale of all that had transpired. The poor Prince, now truly a monstrous beast, tore from his home to search and kill any human who tried to make their way to the abandoned castle.

“The servant wept tears of smoke for his friend as the Warlock sat in silence, thinking about the curse the witch had laid upon the land. He knew the curse was full of malice and though her previous spell had been nothing, this one he could not break. But then he smiled at the wavering flames that were the servant. He told him to not fear, that though he could not break this curse, no spell could last for eternity and that the witch, knowing the beast would eat all who dared come close, did not factor in human love and it’s simple beauty. And even if he had to walk the Earth until the end of time, he would find the one to break the spell.

“Before the Warlock left, he called forth all the wolves of the forest and asked them to howl and chase away any who tried to near the castle without his mark and to keep the cursed Prince from leaving and causing harm to the outlying villages. The wolves agreed and circled the lost kingdom, fencing in the beast.

“The Warlock wandered for years and years, searching for a pure soul, while the Kingdom fell from human memory until the tales of a lost castle guarded by wolves caught the ear of a young thief. She listened to the stories with a smile and dreamt of the riches she would surely find. Many seemed to know the roads that could take her there but the wolves would be a problem. She had only fought capture and never any wild beasts; it was the only thing she knew she couldn’t deal with. She kept her ears open and just as she was beginning to think she’d just have to go for it, a Warlock came to the town Inn. She knew wizards and witches were friends of all animals in the forests and while he slept, she stole into his room and took a beautiful amulet.

“She wasted no time setting off towards the lost Kingdom, dreams of treasure dancing through her mind. She rode her horse hard down the overgrown paths, never questioning the darkness of the trees, the silence of the woods or the lack of the wolves she had heard so much about. When the Thief finally sighted the great, crumbling castle, her horse reared in freight and threw her. She fell to the ground hard, her breath snatched from her lungs and she just sat there for a moment, trying to right herself when a terrifying roar shook the ground.

“The beast tore through the village, snarling madly. The thief jumped to her feet and pulled out her dagger, looking for a way to escape when suddenly the beast vanished and in its place was a handsome young man. He stood only feet from her, his face wide with a shock that mirrored her own. He brought his hands up and curled his fingers and stared at them before reaching out, gathering the Thief to him and kissing her as fiercely as he could. The Thief did not understand what was happening and as a great gust of wind tore through the village restoring all to its former glory, she threw herself away from him and slashed at him with her dagger.

“The Prince laughed and invited her to the castle. They were met with many cheers and great happiness and as the interrupted celebration continued, the Prince told her the tale of how all had come to pass. The Thief, though unbelieving at first, knew what she had seen and accepted the story. Now that the castle was no longer abandoned and her dreams of treasure were dashed, she set about leaving. But the Prince knew that she was the reason the spell was broken and couldn’t bare her departure. He convinced her to stay for a while and though she was doubtful, the Thief agreed.

“The Prince set about at once to win her affections. For many days she resisted but the Prince’s great heart finally won her over and after seeing the love of the people for their rulers, she fell in love. When her heart finally fell to him, the ashes of the servant gathered together and the last of the witches magic fell away. All rejoiced at the return of the servant, but none so much as the Prince.

“The Warlock returned for their wedding, never so happy that he’d been robbed, and told the royals about the bravery and sacrifice of the wolves. The entire Kingdom honored the wolves and gave them offerings. In return the wolves, not used to such treatment, vowed to continue to protect the Kingdom from outsiders and to howl to keep all evil at bay. It is said that the Kingdom lives on in harmony, cut off from the rest of the world, and that wolves howl in the presence of evil to this day.”

The two sat in the moonlight, wrapped in furs, letting the distant howls in the night keep the story alive for a little longer. The little boy fidgeted a bit and curled further into his mothers lap. “I want to hear more about the Thief.” He whispered, his breath fogging in the air.

The woman laughed. “I don’t know more about her. All that’s left of her is the story. And they lived in love and happiness. What better ending could there be, my love?” They sat there a little longer, then the boy yawned and his mother ushered him into his bed. “That’s enough for the night, don’t you think?”

The little boy scrunched into his bed and nodded sleepily. “Goodnight, mama.”

“Goodnight, Stiles. Dream well.” The woman smiled fondly, grabbed her candle from the floor and silently left the room. She walked down the stone corridor with a smile, until her bones burned and she stumbled. Her candle fell to the ground and sputtered out, her hands reaching up to stifle her cried of pain. Tears rolled down her cheeks and she forced her protesting bones to support her. Her extinguished candle clutched in one hand, she looked back at her son’s room and asked her body for just a little more time. She just wanted a little more time with him.

**

“Father, you can’t be serious.” Stiles announced, striding through the great wooden doors to his fathers rooms, pushing the hood of his heavy wool hood off his head. His father glanced over at his son briefly before turning back to readying his pack. Stiles felt his chest tighten slightly and a lump form in his throat. “No.”

“I didn’t ask for your permission.” John replied calmly, closing his leather bag tightly. “This isn’t up for debate. I have a duty to my people-“

“What about your duty to me?” Stiles croaked, running his long fingers through his hair nervously.

The older man sighed softly and moved towards his son, bag slung over his arm. “It’ll be okay.” He patted his son’s shoulder gently.

“But the Sacred Forest?” He heard his father suck in a sharp breath at the name, but continued as if it hadn’t happened. “Can’t you send anyone else? Does it have to be you?”

“Stiles, it’s just a forest. I know that your mother told you the old stories, but you must know that the legends are just that. Stories. They teach lessons. Help children learn right from wrong. And you know that I have to go. These disappearances have the villagers on edge, I have to deal with this now before more people go missing.” He gave the young man another gentle pat on the shoulder before stepping around him and out of the room. “Don’t worry. Everything will be fine.”

A strong chill ran through Stiles, freezing his insides and dread pulled his shoulders down. “No. It won’t.” He murmured, filled with a certainty that he wished he didn’t feel. He followed his father down the stairs and out the door, straining to think of an option that didn’t involve his leaving, failing to think of a single thing. Fear swelled in his heart as his father mounted his horse, but he held his tongue in front of the two hunters that sat waiting for his father to lead them into the dark forest that his mother had called sacred.

“Don’t worry too much, son.” John smiled down at his son, trying to dissipate the fear clouding the light brown eyes staring up at him. “We’ll return as quickly as we can once the beast is dead.” With that he guided his steed towards his men and led the way into the forest.

“Be safe.” Stiles whispered as the three disappeared into the trees, his eyes straining to keep his fathers thick fur cloak in sight as long as he could, pretending it was still in sight long after it had vanished. He stood there with no sense of the time and it was only after Scott hurried out with Stiles own furs that he finally walked back inside.

“They’ll be fine.” Scott murmured under his breath as they strode through the halls to Stiles rooms. “Think of it this way, the snows will be falling soon and you know they’ll be hurrying back to make sure everything is prepared before winter.”

Stiles nodded briefly, trying to let his friends words ease the knot that had formed within his stomach but when they reached his rooms he couldn’t stop himself from opening his mouth. “I just can’t help but feel that that was the last I would see my father for a very long time.” Saying the words aloud had the opposite affect he was hoping for and the knot seemed to harden even further.

Scott seemed to realize this and turned them both straight around, stopping briefly to pull on his furs and led him out into the growing night. He smiled at Stiles quizzical look. “Erica is very eager to her the next bit from your stories. Let’s go and give her some company.” Stiles smiled and let himself be led down the road to the small village based at the foot of the hills that surrounded it.

**

Stiles sat in his window, staring out over the village, watching the line of trees for any movement. The valley that protected the little village served as a boundary between the two forests surrounding them. On the southern border the trees grew straight and strong, their needles a beautiful shade of lively green and dusty blue, as normal as the northern forest was sinister. The trees that the lithe male scanned endlessly were twisted and gnarled, the bark so dark it was almost black, the needles of the pines such a dark green to walk in but a few paces made the sky seem black as night. His mother had once told him that to respect something that old, you had to fear it just a bit.

The faint howl of a wolf brought him out of his thoughts and he turned from the window. He prepared to go down to dinner, fiercely hoping that he could keep his worry out of his face tonight. He knew that his fathers’ second wife and the mother of his dear brother, Melissa, worried enough and seeing his fear multiplied hers. He figured he failed miserably when Scott tried reassuring him once more on the stairs. “I know you’re worried, Stiles, but the first snow has just fallen. It’ll be some time before they can make it back. I’m sure they’re on their way.”

At dinner there was no talk of marriages like their had been before his father had left and Stiles would’ve given anything to be fighting tooth and nail to keep from taking a bride he didn’t know or want. Life seemed to be on hold for Stiles as he waited for the return of his father and the hours spent awake were haunted by the thoughts of the unnaturally dark forest and the secret beasts it could hold. Even Scott’s cheer was muted in the face of the unknown and did little to distract him.

Days passed in a blur of performing his duties and watching the tree line. The snow finally blanketed the lands and large fires battled the constant cold before it happened. Stiles, Scott and Melissa were sitting at the table, none of them even pretending to eat, when the doors burst open and Erica stumbled in. Sickly and frail, she nearly fell to the stone floor before Stiles and Scott got to her. Her eyes were wild and she was panting helplessly, but managed to take in enough breath to announce that a rider had appeared from the forest. Stiles heart clenched and he felt his grip tighten but he refused to leave her until she was taken care of. “What are you doing, fool?” She snarled weakly, trying her best to be fierce. “Leave me on the floor if you must, but go!”

“Let me.” Melissa slipped her arms around the blondes’ thin frame and commanded them away with her gaze. Stiles didn’t need to be told twice. He ran for the door, aware of Scott just a few steps behind him, yanking his cloak around himself he burst out and made straight for the abandoned horse that Erica had surely rode up on. He could have smiled at the lack of saddle or blanket, knowing that it had been his dear sickly friend who had forgotten them in her own haste to let them know the news. Weaving his long thin fingers in the horses coarse mane, he paused only long enough to feel Scott hop on behind him and pushed his heels into the horses side, urging it forward as fast as he was confidant he could get it to move without losing his grip, then just slightly faster. They sped toward the dark forest then turned to follow it down the line, his eyes watering from the cold but unable to blink from fear.

It seemed like days passed before he spotted the figure slumped over the dark horse surrounded by several men, just as haplessly dressed against the bitter cold in their haste to get to the rider. Stiles slowed the horse and flung himself from it and pushed his way past the first villager before they parted to let him through. His hands, angry red and numb, reached for the furs, hoping and praying. His heart seemed to squeeze into dust as the withered face was revealed as a man he knew only in passing. A man he watched so long ago ride out with his father.

Stiles body moved without his minds input as he and Scott help pull the man from his horse and carried him into the nearest building. He barely remembered placing the man on a rough table, fingers tugging the knot of his furs and revealing a wound so ghastly that a woman screamed. The scream pulled him back to himself and he cut the mans thick shirt from the wound. The man gasped awake, his eyes wide with fear, clutching at Stiles arm so tightly it felt as if he were holding on to life from just the connection. “A beast. A horror from legends.” He panted, his face so white he seemed dead. “Milord, a beast it is.”

“You’re safe now.” Stiles voice rang strong, as if he himself was just listening from the crowd around him. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“A beast. A beast.” His voice shook with terror. “I’m sorry, milord, I’m sorry. Charles was taken.”

“Rest, sir, just rest.” Stiles ordered gently, but the man just shook his head, seeming determined to get it all out.

“It took Charles. Dragged him off screaming. The screams. Oh lord. The screaming.”

Stiles felt weak. He couldn’t hear this. He couldn’t.

“The Marquis o- ordered me onto my horse. We fled to- together. But then the Marquis branched off from me and shouted, t- trying to draw the beast to him. S- so I did the only thing I could do. I- I slowed. I did my duty. I- I did it… The beast ch- charged after me and… and it slashed me and pushed the horse f- f- faster. Did he beat me back?” His grip, though it seemed impossible, tightened and pulled him closer. “The Marquis… Surely he is…” The strength suddenly left the grip on Stiles arm and breath shuddered out of the mans body. As he watched the light seemed to seep slowly from the mans eyes, the buzz of voices increased and strong hands pulled him from the table and the body.

“Come, Stiles. We have to get back.” He knew it was Scotts voice, but he was unable to respond. He listened numbly as Scott gave orders to the gathered villagers and pulled him back out into the bitter cold. He knew, later, that he must have gotten onto the horse under his own power and led them back. But it seemed he stepped out into the cold and into the firm arms of his stepmother. He heard Scott relay all they had heard from the dead man and Erica’s gentle sobs. He heard Erica’s father come collect her. He heard Scott urging him to bed. He heard Melissa crying. He heard it all, but he did not take it in.

“He’s still alive.” He whispered as he finally came back to himself. Scott jerked awake from his place beside him at the table. “The man…”

“Nicolas.” Scott supplied.

“Nicolas said they split up. He said he drew back to lure the beast away.” Stiles breath came in heavy gasps. “Then father must have gotten away.”

“Stiles…”

He stood suddenly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. “No. He’s alive.” He dashed out of the room, calling back, “I can feel it.” He ran to his room and yanked his sword around his waist and threw his quiver over his shoulder. Pulling on thick pants and tying on his furs hastily, strode about, throwing random things into his pack before tying his boots on haphazardly. Stowing his mothers’ own dagger in his waistband, grabbed the bag and his bow and dashed down the stairs. He knew quick movement was the only thing keeping him from hunching over in grief and pain. “He’s not dead… just missing.” He muttered over and over. He pulled his horse from the stable without thought, prepping the gentle creature as fast as his frozen hands would go. He was double checking everything without thought when a whinny of a horse not his own startled him out of his daze.

Scott shrugged at his questioning expression. “What? You may be a great many wonderful things, but a tracker is not one of them.”

“You can’t come.” A pained look crossed his friends face before he explained. “Your mother is here. She will need you more than I.”

“I’ve already spoken with her. She doesn’t want me to go but understands that nothing will keep me from your side. Your need is greater than hers right now. Now get on your horse before I leave you behind.” Stiles heart wretched at the words and he nodded once before mounting his horse. “And here, I know your mind is out of it, but gloves would do better than your skin.”

A small smile lifted the corners of his mouth briefly. “You’re certainly getting wiser as you age.”

Scott let out a short bark of a laugh. “Soon I’ll be the smart one and the pretty one.”

Stiles nudged the horse forward. “I’ll be sure to thank your mother when we get back.” He smiled a bit wider at the curse Scott let out beside him. They followed the previous horse prints back to where they came upon the rider and turned into the dark trees following his. Stiles tried to ignore the feeling of dread climbing through him and pushed onward.

The trees grew wilder the further they went and as true darkness fell, they were forced to stop. For days they rode, huddled by fireside only briefly for sleep, barely eating, talking only to break the terrible silence that surrounded them. Stiles wasn’t sure how long they’d been in the forest when the snow began to fall an cover the tracks both in front of and behind them. Time seemed to flow differently in the forest and the feeling of fear only grew the further they went. It was some time after the snow had left them going by faith alone when Stiles realized that Scott hadn’t spoken for a worrying amount of time. The darker haired boy assured him that he was fine, but the forest scared him, made him more aware of the silence. That he had to focus on Stiles voice just to make sure he wasn’t going mad while he searched the ground for anything to lead them.

So Stiles talked. He told Scott all the old stories his mother had told him as a child and even the ones he’d kept to himself. He spoke of the Mother and the Father and how the trees themselves were Gods. How each animal served its purpose and each plant gave their lives to better the lives for humans. He talked and talked and talked. He told him everything, except for the story about the Sacred Forest and why it was so. He tried to speak the words but for some reason, he couldn’t make them come out.

When he began just speaking his thoughts, they found the clue they were working towards. They’d dismounted in a clearing sheltered by thick full branches, preparing for another moment of sleep when Stiles tripped over something and landed with a curse. “Nice to see you’re still as graceful as ever.” Scott snorted. Stiles smiled at the sound of his friends laugh and pushed himself up.

“Start a fire if you’ve got time to be a smartass.” He snapped without heat. “Help me up first though. My foot is stuck. Must be an exposed root.” Scott laughed his way over to him and Stiles held out his hand expectantly. He felt his hand being gripped so tightly it almost hurt and yank him fiercely. He turned to yell at the brunet but fell silent at the look on his face. The worry and fear he had been trying so desperately to keep at bay clawed to the front of his mind and he turned praying for fate to be kind to him.

The hand was pale white and iced into the shape of a claw, as though even in death it fought to have something to grab a hold of, the arm disappearing into the deep snow. Both young men fell to their knees and began sweeping the snow aside with a shared urgency. Stiles yelped loudly and Scott fell backwards at the horror they unearthed. The gouges were to the bone and must have bled terribly, but the twisted look of agony made it worse. His jaw stretched to an unnatural length, nose missing completely, the man died in a pain Stiles couldn’t even imagine. He knew the milky eyes would haunt his dreams until he breathed his last. Even in the face of this terror, he felt relief. “Charles.” He breathed, looking towards Scott, seeing the same horror and relief on his darker face.

Stiles jumped to his feet and quickly mounted his tired horse. “Come on. Nicolas said he was dragged off. The camp must be near by.” Scott scrambled onto his own horse and they push onwards, fanning out slightly, but keeping the other in sight. Scott found it first, giving out a small shout to draw Stiles to him. The clearing mirrored the one they’d just left only larger, the branches so thick that only a light coating of snow covered the bedrolls and small gathering of charred wood. Two swords lay abandoned near the bedrolls; a bow lay crushed on the outer edge of the clearing. “We have to loop back and see if there aren’t any signs of father trying to lure the beast away. What I don’t understand is, how we came across the body first, if we were following the path Nicolas left. Do you think they could’ve circled around maybe-“

“Get on your horse Stiles.” Scott hissed, his fingers digging into Stiles shoulder painfully.

“What?” he turned to look at his friend, but the broader male was looking straight across the clearing from where they’d dismounted, trying his hardest to keep his face blank.

His fingers dug even deeper. “Move slowly and get. On. Your. Horse.” Stiles followed Scotts directions and moved so slowly he felt his bones groaning. They moved back as one, hands moving to their swords. Only when Stiles back hit his mare did he dare look at what had Scotts attention so fully. They seemed perfectly positioned for maximum impact. In just the sliver of moonlight that penetrated the dense forest, four pairs of vicious yellow eyes watched them hungrily. Wolves. Just wolves. Before Stiles could even feel relief at this he remembered that it was just the two of them, his swordsmanship was shoddy and that if these wolves were exposed that there were sure to be twice as many that they couldn’t see surrounding them.

Slower than they had been moving before, they tried to pull themselves up onto the horses but a low growl to at his back made Stiles freeze. He watched as Scott eased himself onto his saddle then hissed through the dark towards his brother. “They’re all around us.” Scott nodded. “I believe there’s actually one directly behind me.” Scott nodded again. “So I’m going to jerk myself on the rest of the way and we’re going to ride like hell to the right.”

“Right at the one you think is behind you?” Scott breathed, able to put a lot of emotion into the faintest sound.

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

“Now!” Stiles shouted and yanked himself into the saddle. He pulled the reins hard to the right and urged his poor horse to go as quickly as he could. The reaction was immediate. Snarling erupted from all around them and Stiles could hear them scrambling towards them. “Keep pace with me, Scott! Don’t do something you’ll regret!” Stiles shouted to his left, glimpsing Scott through the trees.

“Same to you!” The growling and snarling intensified and Stiles pushed onward, hoping an idea would form quickly. Something snagged the heel of his boot and pulled and panic flooded him again. Any idea would be good. He lashed out with is foot and got the beast to release him and he urged his horse faster. He could see the wolves gaining on the side out of the corner of his eye and for a brief moment he thought about drawing back so Scott could ride on.

The moment was swept from his mind as the wolves began falling back, whining slightly and he felt relief rush through him. They were going to make it. Maybe Nicolas’ beast had been the wolves, the dark and the horrible dread the forest forced into you. He turned and saw Scott grinning at him and he returned it. Clearly they were thinking the same thing. Stiles glanced over his shoulder just in time to see the wolves disappearing into the dark, running from them just as feverently as they had been persuing them.

He just had time to think about how wrong it was when a loud roar erupted from in front of them. His horse bucked wildly kicking at the air with its front legs, strong body quivering with a fear he felt echoed in his own heart. He glanced at Scott to see he’d gotten his steed under control quickly and struggled to do the same. Scott screamed for Stiles, panic so clear in his voice that the lithe young man tried even harder to get his horse under control. When he finally got the poor creature on four legs he couldn’t help but see the enormous red eyes glaring at him from much too far from the ground to be any creature he’d ever seen. Struggling to get his horse to turn he shouted for Scott to go. He heard the beast crashing towards him and Scott’s frantic yelling drawing closer. He pushed his horse on, though now it needed no incentive. He pressed on, spotting Scott beside him, glancing behind and riding harder than he’d ever seen him. Their eyes met for a moment before the beast leapt between them and took a vicious swipe at Stiles.

His terrified horse gave an unmistakable noise of pain and Stiles sucked in as much breath as he could manage. “Ride Scott! Don’t you stop! Just go!” The beast roared again, almost drowning out Scott’s refusal. “Go Scott! I’m still alive so go!”

“No! No!” But to Stiles relief, his voice sounded further away. The beast lunged again and Stiles horse pulled sharply beneath him, throwing him forward. He landed on his shoulder hard, his arm giving a sharp snap that made pain he’d never felt consume him like fire. The pain in his back from hitting something solid seemed like nothing compared to his arm. His horse was crying out in pain and he watched, distantly as the beast tore it’s throat open, ending its misery. He righted himself quickly, biting his lip to keep from crying out and calling the beasts attention to himself. It turned towards him anyway, it’s horrible teeth dripping in what he knew would be blood and drool. He didn’t have a name for this… this thing. It snarled and when it moved towards him, he turned and ran. The pain was intense but it was nothing in the face of his fear. He could hear it gaining on him, crashing through the trees, snarling its hate.

‘I’m going to die.’

The thought fluttered briefly and he wondered if he should turn and fight. Face it like the man he was supposed to be. His good arm reached for his sword and he turned to charge the beast down but instead was greeted to the sight of Scott bursting through the brush and slamming his horse straight into the things side, knocking it to the ground. Scott was thrown from his saddle and hit the ground with a sickening thud. Without even a pause for breath, Stiles rushed towards his body.

“Get up! Get up!” He yelled, pulling with all his might against Scott’s weight. Never in his life had he wished he had Scott’s broad, muscular build as he did then. Finally brown eyes opened as the beast roared to its feet and Stiles was able to get him on his hands and knees with his one good arm just as the thing lunged for them. Stiles let go of his friends hand just as the beast bit down on Scotts leg. His scream was more horrifying than the appearance of the beast itself and without thinking Stiles brought his forgotten sword down on the things shoulders. It released the leg to let out its own anguish and Stiles released his weapon and pulled the other male to his feet. They scrambled away, Stiles trying to support Scott as much as he could. “There’s light ahead!” He panted and they pushed onwards as fast as they could go.

Stiles vision began to go black around the edges as they burst through the trees, but he tried to shake it off. He needed to get Scott to safety. If it was the last thing he ever did in his life, it was going to be that. He wasn’t even fazed that the light was coming from a great old castle. He just kept moving Scott forward. “A door.” Scott gasped painfully, trying to take his weight back and push Stiles forward with the same movement, but the smaller boy kept his grip tight and picked up the pace, ignoring the bellowing roar and sound of heavy footfalls from behind them. He fell against the doors, trying to shove them open, beating on it in frustration as the beast drew closer.

Everything hurt; his vision was going and all he could think was he never should have let Scott come. They were both going to die because of him. One of the massive wooden doors finally swung open and he met a pair of furious green eyes before his vision finally went and he fell to the ground.

“Isaac!” He thought he heard.

“No. I’m Stiles.” He muttered in response and everything ceased to be.

**Author's Note:**

> Please point out any mistakes you can see and I'll fix 'em right up. 
> 
> burntheroomdown.tumblr.com  
> My tumblr, but honestly all I do is reblog stuff. :\


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